Princess Midnight A Twilight Princess One Shot
by Goha
Summary: A one shot based on Twilight Princess. Set shortly before the events of the game. My take on what happened to Midna before she met Link.


_**Princess Midnight**_

Blue flames rose loftily, lazily above the altar. Midna gazed into the inferno unwaveringly. The heat was almost unbearable, yet she couldn't look away, for her father's blackened corpse burned within those azure flames.

Her attendant, Leyl, touched her shoulder lightly and Midna painfully tore her gaze away from her father's cremation.

Her attendant, head of the royal guard, was taller and stronger than the rest of the Twili, who were mostly short in stature. His arms were dark ebony, deeper even than her own bluish hue, and his skin was tattooed with glowing red inscriptions that ran along the whole length of both his limbs.

Midna turned and faced him and, as she looked into her trusted protector and friend's yellow, piercing eyes, she found the same concern and sadness mirrored in her own.

"I can't believe he's really gone," she said to him, glancing once more upon the darkened lump of flesh that was once her father and king of the Twili. "It just feels like… that thing there is not my father and that… we'll go back to the palace and there he'll be, sitting on his throne. And I'll walk up to him and cordially fall to one knee before him in greeting. But we'll both be smiling, because we both know it's only cordial. Because we both know that once I'm back on both my feet he'll hold out his arms and embrace me…"

She drifted off and for a moment both her and her attendant were silent, their eyes fixed on the smoke gathering at the ceiling, swirling and dancing in the air and then dissipating, disappearing.

As she watched the smoke diffuse, she commenced to finish her thought. "And," she said at length, "and now I wish he had never let go of me."

Her attendant gave a small, sad smile. "Come," he said, "the Twili await their new leader."

Midna nodded silently in assent, but made no motion to leave. Instead she collapsed into his shoulder. He allowed her the brief moment of weakness and then gently helped her right herself.

She wiped away her tears and let out a deep sigh.

"Are you ready now, Princess?"

"I am," she said, her tone now full of strength and resolve, though still quivering only the slightest bit. "But I want you to make sure that my father's ashes are untouched. I will take care of them personally."

He nodded and then consented to let her lead the way.

Midna sat upon her father's throne, now assuming the position of ruling princess of the Twilight Realm. Leyl stood beside her, his eyes fixed on the massive throne room door. He was aware of the guards - part of the highly trained royal guard as well - by the entrance, aware that there was no need for such a close eye. But even so, he was also aware that this was a delicate time for the Princess and for all the Twili and that it paid to be cautious.

The Princess turned her head and smiled at him. He returned the gesture, recognizing her personal needs as well as her protection. It had been a long day, especially for her. She had spent all day meeting with lords and subjects, all eager to begin to serving under her leadership. A mournful look still lingered in all of their eyes, silently lamenting the loss of their great king.

"Zant came by this morning," Midna said to him suddenly. Her head was turned away from him now and she was frowning. "You saw him."

Leyl nodded, looking at her intently now. She looked so different from the other day. She was garbed in a black robe and her deep orange hair, usually untamed and unruly, was now slicked back, almost completely hidden by her black hood. He almost missed the look of disgust on her face, hidden by all those shadows.

"I saw him," he responded. "But I could not hear what either of you were saying. He…"

Midna interrupted him, finally letting her sentiments on the matter fly out in a flurry. "He requested that we talk somewhere privately!" Her voice echoed throughout the throne room. "So he made me leave my throne, so he could take me to a separate chamber and then ask for my hand in marriage!"

"I hope you consented," Leyl said, unperturbed by her manner, yet scowling at what he knew her answer would be. He recognized the look of utter repulsion that appeared on her face, so clear and strong that it chased away all the shadows that obscured her features. "It wouldn't be wise to spurn him. He comes from a royal family and he is, after all, the second in line, after you, for the kingship. It would very much appease his family and your people if you two would join in matri-"

She didn't let him finish the word. "It is wise, because I despise him and everything his family stands for," she interjected. However, now, her anger had died down, and although her words were harsh, she spoke in a reasonable tone. "Everything that his family stands for, my father stood against. The greed, the corruption…"

She threw her head backwards and sighed. "And anyways," she said, "I'm not ready for a suitor. It's too soon."

"I understand," Leyl said and laid a gentle, warm hand on her shoulder. She reached up and grabbed his hand in her own, comforted by his warmth. "But you must understand," he said, "that eventually you must marry."

Midna released her hold on him and closed her eyes. "Let's not concern ourselves over it just now," she mumbled wearily. "But I will not marry Zant… I would marry a man born of the Light Realm, before I'd marry that… fiend…"

The night was cold and dark as Midna picked her way carefully along the parapets of the castle, her eyes adjusting to the usual impenetrable darkness of the Twilight Realm. Although it was nighttime, it was no darker at this hour than it was in the day time. It was always dark in the Twilight Realm.

She clutched an urn to her chest, holding it close to her heart. She finally halted and checked her surroundings, praying that no one had heard her wake and depart from her bed chambers. But as she looked behind her, all she found was the quiet stillness of the night, the empty darkness.

She looked out, towards her kingdom, silent and sleeping. Suddenly, she felt a strong vindication of what she was doing, knowing deep in her heart that her father would approve.

Midna still couldn't grasp the fact that she was holding her father in her hands. Everything his flesh and bones had amounted to, all of it was contained in this urn she held so tightly to her body. She peered into the urn, imagining her father's face in her mind, but seeing only ashes with her eyes.

She placed her hand within the vase, her fingers grazing the mounds of dust within. She dug her hand in further and then withdrew it. She watched the only remaining vestiges of her father's vessel slide down her fingers and fall, like the sand in an hourglass, back into the urn.

_My father, _she thought, _loved his people so much. During his lifetime he gave everything that he could for his people; all of his being was put into his job. While he was living, he belonged to his people. And even in death, he shall too. _

She clenched her hand tightly, cherishing, just for the moment, the remaining ashes that lingered in the creases of her palm.

She raised the urn high over her head and paused for a moment, eyeing the landscape that stretched out before her.

"My father's ashes do not belong in an urn on display in his castle_,_"she whispered quietly to her slumbering kingdom as her eyes surveyed the land it inhabited. "They belong to his people and to the world that he helped better each and every day of his lifetime."

She dipped the vase and the ashes descended into the air, flying on a swift breeze that brushed her cheek as it swept past. As she watched the dust disperse, she felt a sudden pang of loneliness manifest itself in her heart.

When she could find not a trace of ash in the air, she tucked the urn underneath her arm. She opened her hand slowly, staring at the upturned palm, and traced the creases with her thumb. Her palm was empty, yet she made herself believe that her father's ashes still remained in her hand and memories of him would too, in her heart.

She turned away from the night sky, now steady with resolve. She turned her head and allowed herself one more fleeting glance backwards, towards that starless void of darkness. And suddenly, her breath caught and a sense of panic gripped her as she felt a strange hand close around her wrist.

She was pulled forwards, her head turned about to meet the gaze of her captor. With utmost disgust, she found herself looking into the malignant eyes of her intended suitor. Zant.

Her instincts, incessant in their urgent whisperings, urged her to take action, to resist his grasp. However, her body would not respond. She found herself immobilized, inextricably paralyzed by Zant's stare.

But Midna found that she could speak. Her lips parted to form words while her eyes remained listless.

"Zant," she said, her arm still caught in his hand. "I declined your marriage proposal. I thought that was clear."

He smiled and stepped back, still holding her arm. She fixed her eyes on his sinister grin.

"If I threatened to kill you," he said, "you'd have to accept my proposal, wouldn't you?"

Midna did not respond; she refused to respond to his statement. And Zant decided to elaborate. He knew that she fully understood his reasoning but could not verify this through her expressions and had too much pride to vindicate him with words. He merely enjoyed dragging out his moment of victory.

"You see," he began, "I am next in line for the throne, and so, if you should die, the title would be passed on to me and the kingdom would be wholly mine." He paused, silently entertaining the idea of being king of Twilight, smiling darkly. But abruptly, after wetting his lips, he continued his monologue. "But if you were to marry me, we would share the kingdom, in a way. And I think that you should find that a far better deal than the previously mentioned one."

She did not reply at first and the silence allowed them both to reflect on the situation. After a moment of contemplation, Zant extended his free hand towards her and pushed back her dark hood, allowing Midna's fiery hair to fall to her shoulders and fly about her face. He grabbed at one swaying strand and stroked it gently between his fingers.

Breaking the silence, he added, "and I would, of course, enjoy you… as a wife…"

Midna spat in his face. She remembered her words from earlier that day and repeated them, whispering, yet talking loud enough for him to hear her.

_"I would marry a man born of the Light Realm, before I'd marry that… fiend…"_

His frustration was evident as brushed his hand over his face and cursed to the wind. Without realizing, he had released her and Midna, as consternation slowly appeared through her expressions, found herself unparalyzed.

"You did it, didn't you?" Midna demanded, realization suddenly dawning upon her. "You killed my father?"

"Yes!" Zant roared. "And I'll kill you as well!"

He mumbled incoherently for a moment and a red, pulsing light began to gather at his fingertips. He reached for her.

And suddenly, Midna remembered the small urn hidden underneath her arm. She procured it quickly, and within seconds had it shattered upon her antagonist's cranium.

But the attack had already reached her. His hand gripped her shoulder limply as searing pain flooded through her body. Pain so wretched… she felt as if her limbs were being torn from her torso… torn and then reattached… her body shrinking… her consciousness fading… darkness taking over her whole existence.

She woke up several days later and found herself locked in a dark and dank jail cell.


End file.
